


Coming Home

by CarylDixonandGrimes (FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl's return to Alexandria, Hurt/Comfort, Just some cathartic writing to help me feel better, M/M, Rickyl Writers' Group, Takes place after 7.3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8512579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/CarylDixonandGrimes
Summary: Daryl is returned to Alexandria.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was more or less a oneshot turned two chapter deal that I wrote to make myself feel better after watching "The Cell," the third episode of season 7. Sometimes I write for the enjoyment of others, sometimes I just write for myself. This time it's the latter, but I hope you enjoy it too. Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Rick stood frozen in place, Negan and his men were passing through the gate into Alexandria to collect their 50%.  Among the crowd of armored men stood a hunched man in a filthy sweatshirt and jogging pants.  No shoes, feet and hands filthy, the face covered in dirt, and dried blood.  His hair matted and stuck oil slick to his scalp.  He stumbled as he was pushed brusquely forward with more force than was necessary, nearly toppling over onto the hard pavement.  Rick gasped in recognition that it was him.  It was Daryl, and he was alive!

 

“So… Rick” Negan taunted, swinging Lucille dangerously close to Rick’s face as he brought it up to rest against his shoulder. “This fella here… ‘fraid I gotta send him back. He does not play well with others. I'm a busy man, I'll be back to teach him a lesson but for the time being, he’s yours.”

 

Daryl was shoved once more into the direction of Rick, who instinctively put his hands out toward Daryl but that only resulted in the man reeling and sidestepping him.  The upward curl of his shoulder and the turn of his head speaking what the man couldn’t say outright,  _ don’t… do not touch me. _  Rick let his arms drop to his sides, but his eyes never leaving the man despite Negan strutting around barking orders to his men.

 

_ What happened? _ He questioned.  Daryl was not a particularly affection man, nor was he what one might describe as “touchy-feely” but he had never flinched away from Rick.  Ever.  With stormy eyes, he averted his gaze turning back toward their new leader, ignoring the shiver of fear running down his spine.  The rowdy Saviours were lining up their vehicles, laden with Alexandria’s finds, preparing for their trek back to the Sanctuary.  Negan strode over to the lead vehicle, “Two weeks.  Two weeks and we come back.  Be ready, you sorry shits!”  His cackling laughter rang out, and he slid into the passenger seat. Eugene pulled back the gate allowing the convoy to exit Alexandria.

 

Rick nodded to the assembly of Alexandria’s men, dismissing back to their daily activities.  Daryl had remained rooted to a grassy knoll, eyes downcast, seemingly not looking at his surroundings but certainly taking in the details and goings-on around him.  But he was very aware as Rick took those first tentative steps toward him, and hear the subtle tremble to Rick’s voice as he called out to him, “Daryl…”

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, and stepped away, just out of arm’s reach with uneasy steps.  Rick could hear the labored breathing, and with palms spread wide, he gently herded Daryl back toward their home.  Daryl eventually allowing him to follow a step or so behind.  Rick didn’t miss the white knuckled grip the man had on the railing as he struggled his way up the steps and onto the porch.  He leaned a hand against the side of the house when he approached the door, taking a moment to catch his breath before pulling the screen door wide and entering their home.  He stopped just inside the door, looking and feeling out of place as Rick stepped around him.  

 

“What can I get you?” Rick asked quietly, resting his hands on his hips, seeking comfort from the steady presence of his gun belt.  So wishing he could have used his Colt Python on Negan moments before.

 

Daryl shook his head, with a grimace he moved to pull the ratty sweatshirt over his head.  Rick caught sight of the heavily bandaged shoulder, “May I help you?” he asked.  The grunt of approval from Daryl was enough, and Rick stepped gently into his space, pulling the sleeve off his good arm, the sweatshirt over his head, and pulling the rest of the sweatshirt off his other arm.  He ignored the rank stench of sweat, body odor, and waste that permeated the air. Daryl shoved down his pants, kicking them to the side.  Rick eyed him up and down, the heavy bruising on his back and ribs from harsh kicks with steel toed boots.  His entire body was covered in a greasy dirt, Rick realized his clothes must have been taken from him.  The broken nails on his hands, and the dirt caked beneath them suggested he had tried hard to scrape his way out of whatever hell hole Negan’s men had kept him in.

 

“Burn ‘em,” Daryl’s voice was raspy with lack of use and he maneuvered himself into the kitchen turning on the kitchen sink, not bothering with a glass, just sucking the water straight from the stream off the faucet.  He came up gasping for breath a few times before getting his fill.

 

“I’ll get ya some food, you wanna go-”

 

“Yeah, wash up,” he grunted, limping over to the stairs.  Rick listened to each stumbling step the man took up them, sighing with relief at the sound of the shower starting up and the bathroom door closing.  Remembering that it was laundry day, and there were no clean towels in there, he grabbed a couple along with face cloths from the top of the laundry basket and went upstairs, stopping in Dary’s room along the way to get him a fresh set of clean clothes.

 

Should he enter the bathroom, he wondered.  Daryl was not shy with him, and the two had regularly passed through the bathroom whilst the other was showering or attending to needs.  But something about Daryl’s behavior had made Rick stop at the door questioning his own actions and whether he should allow the man some dignity and privacy.  He chose to sit on the floor outside the door, his elbows resting on upturned knees.  His thumb smoothing the hair of his eyebrows as he mindlessly ran the pads of his fingers over the lines of his forehead.  The sound of the running water a soothing backdrop for a time, until he heard a small noise from within.  A soft whimper, and Rick was back on his feet.  “Daryl?” he called through the door.  “Are you alright?”  At the sound of a hiccup, he turned the knob and entered the steamy room, the sound of furious scrubbing coming from behind the shower curtain.  Rick kicked off his boots and walked over to the shower, “Dar, y’alright in there?”

 

A shuddering gasp, followed by a whine was all the motivation he needed to pull back the curtain and start yanking off his clothes.  Daryl stood beneath the spray, soapy facecloth in hand scrubbing hard at his arms. The dirt had since been scrubbed away, but the harsh and continued scrubbing was leaving raw patches of flesh behind.

 

“Hey, now… I got ya,” he crooned as he stepped into the shower too, pulling the curtain closed.  “Let me help you,” he asked, holding his hand out for the wash cloth.  But Daryl, lost in his own mind, continued to scrub hard, whimpers and half sobs escaping his throat giving way to cries of pain.  Physical or emotional, it didn't matter, he was falling apart right before Rick's eyes.  Rick’s steady hand clasped over Daryl's, slowing the onslaught, and pulling the soapy cloth from his hand.  He set it to the side and took the man's face on his hands, tipping his head up so he could see into those bloodshot red rimmed eyes.  His face a smattering of swollen bruises, cuts, and scrapes, some of which had begun to bleed anew.

 

“You're home now, Dar….” Rick whispered as Daryl grasped his arms, clinging tightly to his wrists.  He nodded his head frantically, and whimpering once more, Rick pulled him closer allowing him to collapse in his arms.  Shushing him quietly as the water streamed down over them, Rick held him as sobs wracked through him, Rick's own eyes tearing up as he felt Daryl fall to pieces.

 

Daryl allowed Rick to dry him off and tend to the stitches on his shoulder. After dressing him, he brought him downstairs and settled him onto a couch in the den at the back of the house. Allowing the man privacy from prying eyes.  He warmed a mug of stew for Daryl when a knock came at the door.  Pulling the curtain aside he smiled at the sight of Maggie on the other side of the door.  She looked smaller now, the light in her eyes diminished since Glenn’s passing, and the dark circles under her eyes told the tale of sleepless nights.

 

He pulled the door open, pulling her close in a lingering hug.  “I heard he's back,” she swallowed thickly. “How is he?”

 

“He's… he's broken.  We haven't talked yet,” he responded. “But he's blames himself for so much, for everything…”

 

“Can I see him?” She asked, “Maybe I can ease some of the pain.”

 

Rick cocked his head to the side giving it some thought.  Pulling the steaming mug from the microwave, he set it on a tray along with a couple biscuits and a glass of water.

 

“Let's bring this to him,” handing the tray to her and following her to the den.  She stopped in the doorway, looking in to see Daryl wrapped in a throw blanket staring listlessly out the window, unaware of their presence.

  
Rick cleared his throat, Daryl flinched slightly and turning saw the two in the doorway. His eyes blew wide and Rick watched the color drain from his face.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie is reunited with Daryl as Rick looks on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I am so pleasantly surprised with the number of kudos and comments I have received on this fic! I really was not expecting much, as it was more for my catharsis that I even jotted this down. I hope chapter 2 does it justice. Again, I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own.

Maggie smiled up at Rick and then back at Daryl as she walked over, setting the tray down on the table beside him.  He flinched back at the sound of the silverware rattling on the tray, a shuddering breath he couldn’t hide had his shoulders drawn up tight and his eyes darting around the room anywhere except on Maggie’s eyes.

 

“Welcome home,” she squatted down in front of him, taking one of his hands between her own. “We told everyone to stay away, give you a chance to settle in. Can't imagine what you must have gone through…”  Daryl stared at his hand, feeling the soft strength of Maggie’s grip.  Determined and fierce in that uniquely Greene way.  She hadn’t hauled off and smacked him, or kicked him, or anything of the sort like he had thought she might.  Like he felt he deserved.

 

“Me? Weren't nothin.’ Ah, Maggie…” Daryl’s voice cracked, and he covered his face with his free hand, the fingers shaking as he struggled to hold himself together.

 

“Look at me,” she pulled the hand from his face.  When his eyes met hers, his face crumbled with the weight of having lost Hershel, Beth, and now Glenn due to his failings.  If only he had searched longer for the Governor, they may have defeated him and Hershel would have been saved.  If only he had moved faster, he might have saved Beth that night out on the road.  And Glenn?  He regretted moving at all, but who’s to say if Negan would have struck down Rosita instead?

 

“M’so sorry, Maggie,” he hiccuped and swiped at the tears that had begun to run fresh down his cheeks. 

 

“Ain't nothing to be sorry for.  What's done is done. But never for one second did I ever blame you, Daryl.  Never.”  Her own eyes filled with tears, and with a sad smile she went up on her knees and pulled Daryl into a hug, her hand going up the back of his neck, pushing his head against her shoulder, rubbing his back with her other hand.  “Negan swung that bat, not you.  Negan is to blame, not you. And one day, someday… we’ll kill ‘im.”

 

Daryl sniffled and nodded. “And we’ll need you then, just as much as we need you now,” she insisted with a ferocious intensity despite her grieving state.  She pulled back, taking his face between her hands and kissing his forehead.  “I'm glad you're back, Daryl Dixon.  You’re family.  And I need my family now.  We’re stronger together, and we can only do this… together.”  Mimicking Glenn’s words from not so long ago, they rang true and touched Daryl to his core.  Pushing the wet fringe of hair from his face, she gave him another sad smile, and turned to leave.

 

Rick squeezed Maggie’s shoulder as she passed through the doorway.  He stood for a time watching Daryl as he settled back against the couch, the tension leaking from his shoulders and he finally calmed enough to remember the tray of food that Maggie had brought in.  

 

“Y’gonna stare at me, or what?” he growled, as he sucked down the broth from the mug.

 

Rick hummed, shaking his head no.  “Waiting for your permission, I guess.  Wanted to sit with ya if you didn’t mind.”

 

“Why would I?”

 

“Well, ya been through hell, Dar.  Don’t take a fool to figure out you been through something awful this week.  I ain’t gonna push, but… I’m here.”

 

Daryl paused the spooning of food into his mouth, and looked up at Rick out of the corner of his eye.  “I’m gonna need some time.”

 

“No pressure, no rush.”

 

Daryl nodded, and gestured to the cushion next to him.  Rick sat beside him, leaning his side into the back of the couch, watching as Daryl shoved the last of the food in his mouth and finished his water.  Daryl bumped his chest twice with his fist, and burped, finally pulling the blanket around his shoulders and leaning back into the couch to face Rick.  

 

Rick reached out, entwining his own fingers with Daryl’s.  “There’s so much I want to say about that night, but… I don’t want to relive it.”

 

“So don’t,” Daryl rested his head against the cushion.  

 

“I was so scared-”

 

“We all were.”

 

“I was afraid I’d get you back in pieces.”

 

“Hmm…”

 

“Can I touch you?”

 

He nodded, “Just… go slow.  No sudden movements.”

 

“You must be tired.  Exhausted?”

 

Daryl nodded, and Rick began massaging the palm of his hand, drawing the stress from his body with each slide of his thumbs across Daryl’s calloused hand.  Daryl’s eyes began to drift closed but every time he began to succumb to sleep, his body would jolt him awake.  The sharp movements pulled his stitches, and sent twinges of pain through his still healing shoulder.  

 

“Come ‘ere,” Rick sat down sideways on the couch, swinging one leg up on it, and gesturing for Daryl to settle between his legs.  Daryl stuck an arm under Rick, resting his head on Rick’s chest listening to the steady thrumming of his lover’s heart.

 

“Just rest.  I got ya, ain’t nobody gonna bother us.  Rest…”

 

Daryl hummed as he snuggled in closer, appreciative of the quiet.  With Rick’s arms wrapped securely around him, he was able to let his body relax bit by bit.  Thankful that he was back in the relative safety of his home.  Sleep drew him away from the conscious world, into a realm of dreams of the much sought after revenge on Negan.   _ Someday… And soon. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to step up on my soap box for a minute. The last couple of days I've seen some pretty nasty comments posted to people's stories on this website. Some are just outright douchecanoes, and other's put them there under the guise of "constructive criticism." If you don't like something, stop reading. If someone missed a tag for something troubling or inflammatory like abuse, rape, cancer, major character death, etc and it's not included in a summary, call them out on it. BE POLITE about it. Be civil, it's really not that hard. If you like something about a fic, tell the writer! They will love you forever! If you find a plot hole, ask questions! Seriously! I've seen writers go back months later and update their entire fic and turn it into something infinitely better. It's true, you can't really polish a turd, but there are ways to camouflage it an make it more appealing. So please, be kind. Whether it's my fics or someone else's, negativity is never appreciated, but polite civil conversation certainly is.   
> Steps back off soap box.
> 
> Hope you all are enjoying season 7! (Cringe, enjoy is the wrong word to use, right? Haha! Let's keep our fingers crossed that we have some happy moments ahead!)


End file.
